RAM, EWE, LAMB - A WALK IN THE WOODS BY HOLFORD

Sometimes I find I'm so familiar with the area I usually explore, I wish I were somewhere else! And, briefly, I was!

I went for another walk in the Quantocks - this time in a forest . . . or a wood . . . . ? I don't know what the difference is but this wood had a lot of trees in it (which is quite foresty) and I never came to the end of them (which is foresty too). But there was light drifting down through the branches (which is wood-ish) and it was 'magical' not 'frightening' . . . which heads it in the 'wood' direction because, in my mind, a forest has to be at least a little bit disconcerting.

The foot path followed a wide but shallow stream . . . and I followed the path . . . and here are some of the things I saw.

Fungi. Yup. Lots of Fungi. Here are some on a . . . birch? Um. Are they Birch Polypore Piptoporus betulinus? Um . . . They were about seven inches across and there were more above them in a line up the trunk - spaced into little clumps like this one.

And little black balls on a dead tree that had fallen across the stream. (I don't know precisely what these kind are but they are similar (only larger) to the ones I came across in a Dorset Beech Wood.)

And lichen? Yes. Lichen!

And ferns? Yes, lots of ferns. Plenty on the ground and some above our heads. Here's one on the branch of what I think is a Sessile Oak.

Flowers? Yes, there were oodles of flowers.

Here, where the trees are a little thinner and there's a tad more light - a Herb Robert Flower peeping through the leaves of Enchanter's Nightshade! (Which is also a gardener's nightmare.)

And here's a little Wood-Sorrel (Oxalis acetosella).

See oak leaves and blackberry leaves too?

And here's the stream.

And here are Caddis Fly larvae encased by the little pebbles they have each gathered round them for protection. You might like to enlarge this to see better. And have you noticed how clear the stream is?

And sheep? Yes. Since you ask there were sheep in a field on the other side of the stream at a point where it had taken a bit of a dip. So the field was up on a short bank - and there was a single strand of barbed wire around it.

Most of the sheep were quietly grazing, eyes down. But the ram in with them was running up and down bellowing, its huge fleece swaying dramatically as it leapt up onto a small promontory, roared and ran down again.  And for almost every bellow, a smaller call replied from our side of the stream - only high up so we couldn't see who was making it. On and on it went, bellow, cry, bellow, cry. Of course, as soon as I took out my camera, the ram ran down from the highest, most dramatic part of the view, back into the main body of the field. And the moment I began to film . . .  it ran behind a tree. So here is a video of a ram behind a tree bellowing . . . but listen. Bellow, cry. Below cry. (Then I'll tell you what happened next.)

Well . . . as you see, the ram was heading down to the other end of the field. We followed . . . and round a bend . . . there, waiting for him on the path, were the ewe and the lamb he'd been drawing down from the hill. So out he came from the field - under the barbed wire, along a little beach and over a ford in the stream, went right up to them, greeted them; then turned and started to lead them so he could show them the best place to cross the stream.

But when the ewe and lamb reached the water they hesitated and stopped. It was only a short distance so he was already scrambling up the bank towards the barbed wire but as soon as he realised they'd lost their nerve, he returned to them and encouraged them to get their feet wet. And across they went. And once he could see they really were fording the stream, he walked on a little to wait. And once they'd caught up, he led them under the wire and back into the field - where all of a sudden it was perfectly quiet and peaceful and everyone went back to eating grass.

(You might also like simply to listen to the video without watching. You will hear more that way.)

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Places to go for more information

Caddis Fly  - on the Wildlife Trusts site.
Caddis Fly Larvae  (not for the squeamish) in the Life in Freshwater section section of the Field Studies Council site. 

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IDs with the help of iSpot.

OUT ON THE TOWN

One of my mantras - to look up. Another, once you are up - look down.

There are special places I return to over and over. Are the same plants there? Depending on the season, the answer is usually 'yes'; if not the original ones, new ones which have grown from their seeds or their roots. Town plants - the wild kind - are as predictable as their hedgerow cousins.

Another reason for returning is to have another bash at photographing plants which 'didn't come out well first time'. (Sometimes they never do.)

This fern is one of several growing on the outer side of a footbridge over a level crossing. The gates don't stay shut for long and it's exciting to stand by the track and watch trains rattle by so whether from patience, laziness or interest, shoppers usually wait till the barriers go up again. Sometimes there are people in carriages. (It's fun being a passenger looking out at the crowds.) Sometimes its a chain of trucks. Sometimes I too stand and wait but I don't like crowds, view climbing steps as a minor contribution to staying healthy - and like to visit the plants on the bridge.

I've never yet taken a really crisp picture of any of the ferns there. I have to reach the camera out over the brick edge and twist it down or back (safe with handrail so I'm not going to tip over) and focus at an uncomfortably short distance which sacrifices depth of field. (Remember, I'm well-pleased with my camera but I can't change the lens.)

Yesterday was no exception. Slightly fuzzy image. Odd angle. But . . .

The train has just passed and a huge column of pedestrians surges over the track in both directions . . . looking at the ground.

They do, of course, have to make sure not to trip on the rails . . . but it's more than that . . . when not looking in windows or checking phones, people do look down a lot when walking along. I do this too - watch my shoes pop in and out of vision. It can be meditative, give a sense of marching forward and purposefulness. Feet are awfully interesting! Hence my mantra - remember to look up.

Look up - and you'll see ferns.

Look behind things and you'll find leaves and seeds. (Even if they turn out at a jaunty angle!)

Look down .

Even underground . . . well, you already know my fascination with drains!

But don't neglect feet level.

Here under a backstreet tree by a multi-storey car-park among fallen leaves and old twigs - about four inches across . . . it pays as much to look down as up. 

And, if you look up - you may see me looking down! If you do - I'll wave.

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Tree Following News.

In my enthusiasm to keep the list up-to-date - I obliterated it. Bother!

But, to me, autumn is the beginning of a new year. It always seems more like new life than new death with everything getting ready for next spring and summer. Always very hopeful. So . . . new list!

Hollis is giving us a really good start with 'Autumn Strategies 1'.

Hollis Marriot blogs from Wyoming in the U.S.A. The terrain is profoundly different from the Dorset land-and-sea-scape I'm familiar with and the plants there often have to use different ways to deal with their environment - one which (it seems to me) is a pretty challenging one. 

Unlike Loose and Leafy - which rambles about discovering things without knowing anything - In the Company of Rocks and Plants gives you proper science too. (Of a very accessible kind.)

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GOING CLOSE UP

I suppose it's inevitable that if one concentrates on plants in one's immediate area, the same will come up over and over.

So it is, with Hart's Tongue Fern - Asplenium scolopendrium. I don't mind. I like it a lot and feel privileged to live somewhere where it grows out of the ground, out of walls and in drains!

This one is within a few feet of the tree we are following.

It's not the most beautiful of specimens - but all the Hart's Tongues in these woods are looking pretty tatty. It's not their 'moment'. But there's more to see than the whole plant.

Move in - a leaf.

Closer - and we see the signs of a Leaf Mining insect - in this case Chromatomyia scolopendri. If you are impressed that I know its name, I'd better make it clear my amateur status is intact. I was guided in this ID by members of Ispot. (A nudge to take a look at it if you haven't already!)

A couple of hundred yards away, we find a clump of Arum maculatum - except these, despite their name - are immaculate; their inky spots are missing. Still beautiful though.

And behind them, a short log with small, round fungi; the largest a little more than an inch across - Auricularia auricula-judae - Jew's Ear Fungus. (Often known as 'Jelly Ear' too.) Looking this up on the internet I find a suggestion that the name is a corruption of 'Judas' Ear'. Apparently there's a tradition that Judas hanged himself from an Elder Tree and this fungus is often found on elders. In this case it's on a piece of dead wood; probably sycamore. The individuals remind me of small, smooth, orange satellite dishes but I've seen others that are more crimped at the base so the inner shape is more ear-like.

The underside. Beautiful, eh?

Another couple of hundred yards and a large log, left here since a tree was felled more than a year ago. And, on it, long, thin ribbons of fungus, protruding about a quarter of an inch (and less . . . but maybe they will grow?) from the log.

Close up.

And  out of the woods, exposed to the winds and sea air (and, incidentally, on an elder tree) - Common Orange Lichen (Xanthoria parietina ).

Close up.

It's good to walk through the woods - and these are easily accessible. What's more, everything in this post is within a twenty minute walk. It's good to look up and around, of course. And if you are in a hurry, that's what you will automatically do. But the longer you linger, the closer you look, there's much more than twenty minutes in the detail!

GUTTERS AND DRAINS

A couple of weeks ago, thieves stole gratings from gutters, one from here, one from there in at least three places.

Asplenium scolopendrium
in an uncovered drain.

Anyone might have stepped off the kerb into watery and frightening discomfort or terrible pain. Having avoided the peril, my interest was trivial - there were ferns in there - ferns I would never have been aware of otherwise.

Hopefully, we are coming to the end of rain and drizzle (alternating with shivering cold) and I’ll go back to clambering up and down no-longer-muddy banks and thrusting my camera confidently into non-wet bushes and under non-dripping leaves. In the short term - urban plants are getting more of a look-in.

The surprise find of a fern-in-a-hole sent me to look in other drains and gutters and to search through old photos too.

Asplenium scolopendrium
where there used to be a down-pipe.
December 12th 2010

Like this. Here is a fern in the narrow space where a down-pipe used to be between a door and a pavement.

Buddleia - December 12th 2010

On the buildings opposite, high up, a buddleia grows from a cluster of pipes.

In January, gutters running with water have been keeping plants green. I’m surprised they haven’t turned to mush. There are times when they have been submerged by water rushing towards drains.

Sagina Subulata (Irish Moss) (I think) Centre. Groundsel (Senecio vulgaris) to its left. Cleavers (Galium aparine) (top centre) with what appears to be some kind of squash sprout in front of it but probably isn't! Top right - some kind of dandelion style plant. There's also a seedling in front of the groundsel that looks more like onion than grass and could be a wild chive (Allium schoenoprasum).
January 17th 2011

Come summer, I expect them still to be there when all moisture is gone, happily growing in these almost soil-less places. Not only that, many of them will be flowering. These are tough plants of extremes. Why are they not showered with more admiration? Mostly, they are simply trodden upon.

A plant I don't like (how's that for science?) with Scarlet Pimpernel (Anagallis arvensis) (top left) (I think) and a Willow Herb (I think)(top right).
January 17th 2011

It’s swinging between stormy sunshine and dullness today. This morning, sparrows were twittering energetically and a collar-dove was chuntering on . . . and on . . .

It is half past two as I write. The sun has come out and the birds have mostly stopped. I can hear cars in the distance. A flock of racing pigeons is taking its exercise in circles against a blue-ing up sky.

(It won’t last.)

(She says grumpily!)